Meteor
by applechan53
Summary: Short little drabble about the Chelyabisnk meteor. Thank goodness no one died! One shot. No pairings, just fluff.


Russia wakes up on the morning of February 15, 2013, to the sound of banging on his door. He tries to ignore the annoying noise, knowing there's only one person who would be so loud when trying to gain entry to someone's house, but eventually it becomes too much.

"_What?" _Russia growls, opening the door on America, who is flung inside.

"Dude, you _need _to hear what my alien friend Tony said just now!" the American yells frantically.

Russia groans. "What is it now? Are you going to tell me that the world is under attack by yet _another _alien race? The _noppera_ weren't the last of them?"

"No!" America says, looking affronted, "and for the record, Tony helped us defeat them, so don't talk bad about it! But anyway, there's a meteor about to crash into Chelyabinsk!" he exclaims, thoroughly making a mess of the pronunciation of the Russian town as he flails his arms around wildly.

Russia stares at him, unamused. "America, next time you go out to drink that disgusting swill you call beer, do not come to my house and try to feed me idiotic stories that will only make me want to destroy you."

"_What!"_ America screams, "I came all the way to your house to warn you, and you accuse me of being _drunk? _It's freaking _cold _out there!"

"It's Russia," the older nation says coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make breakfast. It's almost 9:20 and I haven't eaten yet."

"I'm staying!" America insists, "If I dragged myself all the way out here, you are at _least _giving me food!"

"Fine," Russia concedes angrily, but before he can make it to the kitchen, there's a horrible, sharp pain in his head and the world goes black…

"Russia?" America asks, poking the unconscious nation. "See? There goes Chelyabinsk! What'd I tell ya?" He pokes him again. "Okay, now you're freaking me out. Get up. Get up. Get up…" He accompanies each repetition with another poke, something that Russia would normally never allow.

America facepalms, and, using his insane amount of strength, drags the passed out country over to the couch. "You _seriously _owe me for this," he mumbles, before going to make himself something to eat.

Russia wakes up a few days later to find himself lying on his living room couch. Next to him, a small bouquet of sunflowers sits in a giant vase, bright heads turned towards the sun streaming in from the window. It's a sunny day in Siberia, for once.

"Those are from Ukraine," America says, walking into the room.

Russia turns in alarm. "What are you doing in my house?" he asks.

America shrugs. "You've been unconscious for three days. _Someone _had to take care of you."

"And my sisters couldn't because…" Russia asks, annoyed.

"Ukraine isn't allowed to talk to you because of her government, and do you _really _want Belarus to be near you while you're unconscious?" America reasons.

Russia shudders at the thought. "But still, why did you stay? We're not exactly good friends."

The American shrugs again. "I'm the hero, remember? It's my job to help people, no matter what." He pauses, before continueing. "But… I don't know, if I were in your place, and you were the only one around, I'd want you to help me. That, and thinking about how I would feel if something happened to England or, even worse, Mattie… I couldn't do that to Ukraine and Belarus."

Russia nods. "Well, I feel better now, so your assistance is not needed.. What is the damage in Chelyabinsk?"

America takes in a shaky breath. "Over 7,200 buildings ruined and 1,491 people injured enough to need medical attention."

"I see…" Russia whispers. _At least no one died, _he thinks.

"Sorry," America says, holding a hand on his chest and grimacing slightly. Russia remembers that day, September 9th, 2001, when the twin towers were destroyed, and how much pain America was in. This pain was not nearly as bad as that must have been.

"I'll be fine. This is nothing compared to what others have had to go through," Russia assures him. America smiles approvingly, even though he knows Russia doesn't really care whether or not anybody approves of him.

As America leaves, he realizes that he respects his Russian companion just a little bit more…

* * *

**Hi! It's applechan53!**

**You know what... I just wrote two stories in one day. :|**

**Anyway, I thank the Lord that no one died that day! \(^o^)/ Well, I hope you like! And for all of you who've been reading all my stories... I spoil you... but thank you so much for reading! XD**

**Hasta la Pasta~! (more people need to say that.)**


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